This Is Our Warhammer Journey

“Huh?”

Seeing Arthur, who was nothing like the clever guy from the rescue earlier, Rameses let out a sigh.

He was kind of a dumb*ss too—he just did whatever the Emperor said without thinking, completely ignoring the fact that the Emperor didn’t even see them as people.

Then he spoke with resignation.

“Are we really going to just leave these people alone?”

At the edge of the plaza, the Thousand Sons psyker in red armor asked his three cousins.

“Of course not.”

They all answered in unison.

Wasn’t their whole reason for standing here to protect these people?

Rameses threw out three questions that left the others completely speechless.

D*mn!

Everyone had the same bitter look on their faces.

Guess that’s what you’d expect from a guy who once got beaten into the ICU by four creditors for freeloading too much.

The real miracle was that they hadn’t already punched him.

“Yup, that tracks.”

Romulus finally got a taste of what most of the Primarchs must’ve felt dealing with the Emperor.

That raw, “you’re useful so I’m treating you like a f***ing tool” kind of energy was off the charts.

Even if all the traitor Primarchs look like clowns compared to Rogal Dorn, there’s still a reason why half the Primarchs joined Horus in the Heresy.

“Let’s just say doing good doesn’t always get you rewarded.”

Garna couldn’t help but rub his forehead.

The Emperor’s little stunt had definitely left a mark on their mental state.

After all, they’d inevitably held on to some idealized image of the Emperor as humanity’s protector—but witnessing this move had definitely shattered some of that filter.

With their understanding of this world, the transmigrators had naturally thought of seeking the patronage of this guardian god of mankind. Out of moral conscience, they didn’t even mind paying a personal cost.

But was it really necessary to just dump the people they wanted to protect right into their laps without the slightest bit of tact?

And then—

Listening to the prayers and hymns behind them, all in praise of the Emperor, even though they’d mentally prepared for it, a wave of disappointment still rose in their hearts.

After all, just a few hours ago, they were just regular young people from a regular world. If you saved a bunch of foreigners and all they did was thank God, yeah, you’d feel pretty bummed too.

They were human too. When they gave something, it wasn’t wrong to want some positive feedback.

Even if it was just a compliment, you know?

“My lord.”

A voice broke through their shared emo moment.

Once everyone had composed themselves, Rameses waved his hand to dispel the psychic barrier.

“Sister Arabella.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Sister Arabella, and the Alex and Colonel Kovek behind her, his expression a bit puzzled.

“How can I help you?”

“Commissar Alex and Colonel Kovek would like to request an audience with you.”

What do they want with me now?

The question flashed through Arthur’s mind, but he nodded in agreement right away.

“No problem.”

Hearing this, Arabella bowed devoutly, then stepped aside to make room for the two men to speak with the Angels.

“How can I help you two?”

Arthur asked calmly.

“Honorable Astartes Brother,”

Standing in the grand central hall still bathed in the Emperor’s holy light, Colonel Kovek carefully took out an old but well-maintained laspistol, holding it up with both hands as he tried his best to contain his excitement.

He had never in his life dreamed that he would escape from such a desperate situation alive—let alone that he would fight side by side with such a noble Astartes Brother who actually cared about mortals.

“……”

Arthur gave a small nod at Kovek’s gesture, then made a listening motion.

“In Cadia, the moment we grow old enough to open our eyes, we are given a gift—a weapon passed down from our elders. When our fingers first begin to grasp, the beam of light that bursts from it is what rescues us from the gaze of heretics and abominations.”

Colonel Kovek spoke, gently caressing the weapon in his hands, his eyes full of nostalgia.

“It witnessed my journey from a baby to a man. It witnessed every Cadian grow into currency for the Emperor. It is a symbol of how Cadia could stand unbroken through countless assaults from Chaos.”

As he spoke, his gaze grew more and more reluctant to part, as if trying to etch every detail of the laspistol into his memory.

“And now, I wish for it to become a gift—one that carries my gratitude, and the gratitude of all 2,600 soldiers of the 43rd Cadian Regiment, the ‘Broken Sword’—thank you for giving us the chance to keep fighting for mankind.”

You don’t get to lead in the Astra Militarum by being the strongest. You get there by being the best at reading the room.

They could all tell the Emperor’s Angels were constantly showing them kindness.

And now, they were trying to return that kindness in their own way.

“I sincerely hope you’ll accept this gift. May you and your battle-brothers stand as unyielding as Cadia.”

Finally, his voice carried a hint of anxiety, afraid he might’ve accidentally offended the Astartes’ cultural norms and tainted this sacred gesture of gratitude.

A long silence followed—about ten seconds—before Arthur finally reached out and took the laspistol.

A standard model, nothing special, just something made on an industrial world.

“Thank you for the gift.”

With three envious stares behind him, Arthur added, “I’ll take good care of it.”

The three men instantly breathed a sigh of relief.

“But—”

All three of them immediately turned serious, locking their attention on Arthur.

Whatever the Angel asked next, they were absolutely ready to do it.

“I wasn’t the only one who helped you.”

Arthur brought the other three forward, including Rameses, who had disguised his armor color with psychic power.

“If not for the support of my battle-brothers, we might’ve been swept away by the tides of the Warp. Without them, I wouldn’t have had the confidence to help you.”

“Just like every one of your victories was built alongside your comrades, I could never have achieved this honor without them.”

“So, I hope all of us can receive the blessings of Cadia.”

Arthur asked gently.

“Colonel Kovek, may I ask—are we worthy?”

“Of course, my lord.”

Colonel Kovek’s face flushed with emotion.

“It is our honor!”

Carrying the hope of the Angels, Colonel Kovek quickly returned to the Astra Militarum ranks.

“How’d it go?”

Watching a bunch of guys who’d just come off the surgery table start sparring for honor, Arthur turned to his companions.

With his free hand, he still couldn’t help playing with the laspistol that clearly didn’t match the size of his palm.

“Well, even if doing good doesn’t always get you rewarded…”

Garna turned away, staring at the ceiling, and shrugged again.

“Doing good is still worth sticking to.”